


Missing Years

by Rhiannon87



Category: Uncharted
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannon87/pseuds/Rhiannon87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate's fifteen when he meets Victor Sullivan. He still has a lot of growing up to do. Scenes and short stories from Nate's late teens/early twenties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nate likes summer best, for a lot of reasons, but the main one is that he doesn’t have to pretend to be at school when he and Sully are in the States. Or pretend to be ‘homeschooled,’ which is what Sully tells him to say if anyone asks. Doesn’t really make a difference when the upshot is that he can’t go outside between eight and four, Monday through Friday. People ask questions, get suspicious, make phone calls to state agencies. Nate’s dealt with enough social workers in his life. He doesn’t need any more, pretending to be concerned about his wellbeing while really just trying to find somewhere else to dump him so he’s not causing trouble.

But in the summer, nobody’s in school, and he can come and go as he pleases. And after this summer, it won’t matter. He turns eighteen this year, and he’s not expected to be in school anymore. Which means he can go to the library whenever he wants.

He’s been going a lot, lately. He’s a fast reader, usually takes home a stack of books and brings them back a week later, but now he just checks out one or two at a time. ‘Cause, well, the more often he’s at the library, the better his chances of being able to chat with the really pretty, really nice, really smart, really… something-that-makes-his-stomach-go-all-fluttery girl who works at the front desk.

Her name’s Sonia. She’s a couple years older than him, Nate thinks, though he’s never asked. Not supposed to ask, Sully says, it’s rude. Her Spanish and English both have a Cuban accent, and she always has her hair done back in a braid. Nate met her, sort of, when he couldn’t find the book on Mesoamerican religions that he wanted. She’d walked him back to the stacks, asked if it was for a school project, seemed impressed when he said he just liked reading about this stuff. She’d managed to find the book—on the wrong shelf, apparently—and asked if he needed anything else.

Sully would’ve had some smooth line that would have led to asking for her number, but Nate just shook his head and stammered out his thanks.

That was a few weeks ago. Nate’s been trying to figure out how to talk to her ever since. She’s not always there when he is, and when she is, there isn’t really a lot of time to chat while she’s checking out his books for him. He and Sully just got back from a trip to Chile, and Nate heads off to the library the first chance he gets. He is out of reading material, after all.

Sonia’s at the front desk when he walks in, and Nate bites his lip to keep from smiling. But when she looks up from her conversation and gives him a quick wave, he can’t help it; he grins and waves back, then hurries off to the history section. He finds a couple books on the Italian Renaissance, then wanders over to the art books in the reference section. Those books, the huge ones with full-color photographs of paintings and sculptures, he can’t check out, and he wants to see what the paintings really look like, instead of just relying on the grainy black-and-white pictures in the history books.

One day, he’ll see them in real life. Nate grins at the book. It used to just be a dream, traveling the world, but since he ran away, he’s been to almost twenty countries and dozens of cities, towns, ruins… Visits to Rome or Venice or Florence no longer seem like impossible, far-off goals. He’s certain that he’ll go there, someday. Probably someday soon.

Nate collects his books and casually wanders in the direction of the front desk. There are a couple people waiting to check out, and Nate pauses by the atlases, pretending to be interested in the maps (like he doesn’t already have his own copies at Sully’s house) while he waits for the other people to go away. If he gets in line now, he might end up having to check out his books from the other librarian. And if there aren't many people around, he can probably talk to her a bit more. She waved at him. That's a good sign, right?

Eventually the other people leave, and the other librarian goes off to the back offices. Nate waits another minute or so before heading up to the front. Sonia smiles brightly at him, and his heart skips a beat. “I was wondering where you'd gotten to,” she says as he hands over his library card. “Hadn't seen you around for a while.”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, smiling back a little sheepishly. “I was traveling.”

“Oh, cool!” she says. “Where'd you go?”

“Santiago.” Well. That's where he and Sully had landed, anyway. They'd spent most of the time in the lowlands just on the other side of the Chile-Argentina border, looking for a town that had just vanished from all maps and records a few hundred years ago. They'd come back empty-handed, unfortunately, but the trip had still been fun. Sully said the town had probably been wiped out by the Spanish, nothing left to find, but Nate wasn't so sure. He'd go back someday, try again. Towns didn't just vanish. There'd be something left behind.

“Wow,” she says, sounding impressed. “Summer vacation?”

Nate shrugs, then nods, because he's really not sure how to describe what he and Sully do in a way that doesn't sound... well, highly illegal. “Yeah, something like that,” he says.

She finishes stamping the due dates on the books, then hands them over. “Here you go,” she says. “Due back in two weeks, although I'm sure I'll see you before then.”

“Yeah, probably,” he says with a nervous laugh. “Thanks.”

She waves at him again; he collects his books and hurries out so she doesn't see the huge, ridiculous grin on his face.

Sully doesn’t ask him where he’s been when he gets back. Not that it’s a big mystery, seeing as he’s coming back with a few books tucked under his arm, but it’s the principle of the thing. Sully’s never tried to give him a curfew or tell him where he can’t go, beyond the whole ‘stay inside during school hours so you don’t get hauled off by the state’ thing. He’s only ever asked that Nate tell him when he’s leaving and when he thinks he’ll be back, if he’s gonna be gone a while. And he does the same for Nate, so that’s all right.

Nate swings through the kitchen to grab a snack, then sets his books on the desk in his room. Sully’s rustling around in his bedroom; Nate wanders across the hall and leans against the open doorway. “Big night?” he asks dryly around a mouthful of apple.

Sully pauses in combing his hair and smirks at Nate’s reflection in the mirror. “As always,” he says. “You doin’ anything fun?”

“Nah,” Nate says. “Just gonna hang out here tonight.”

For a second, Sully looks… sad, almost, but the expression disappears before Nate can really figure it out. “All right.” He finishes fussing with his hair, then pulls on his watch as he heads to the door. “Don’t wait up.”

He makes like he’s going to grab Nate in a headlock as he passes; Nate easily dodges out of the way. “I never do,” he replies with a grin.

Sully laughs and heads down the hall. Nate goes back into his room and flops down on his bed with one of his new books. He barely registers the noise when Sully’s truck pulls out of the driveway a few minutes later, his attention focused some six hundred years ago and thousands of miles away.

Most of the summer passes like that. Nate's at the library two or three times a week, except for the weeks he and Sully are traveling. They go to Scotland, and Venezuela, and eventually to Italy, in mid-August. Sully doesn't even ask Nate to come to the meetings with clients and contacts in Naples, just lets him run off to explore the museums. He fills journals with sketches and thinks about maybe giving Sonia some of them. She's always impressed by the trips he's taken when he comes back, says she hasn’t left the U.S. since her family came here from Cuba, and even then she hasn't been farther away than Missouri.

They've been back from Naples for a few days, and Nate's still devouring any and all books he can find about Italian history. He's got a stack of three books in his arms and his journal in his back pocket. Maybe he can just show Sonia a few of his drawings, and if she really seems to like one, he can give it to her. And, y'know, maybe write his number on there, too.

“Oh, good, you made it in today,” Sonia says when Nate comes up to the front desk. “I was hoping I'd see you before I left.”

Nate blinks at her. “You're leaving?”

She nods. “I'm going back to college next week,” she says. She chuckles and shakes her head as she reaches for the books. “So much packing, oh my god.”

“Oh.” Nate swallows hard and tries to school his face into something neutral, instead of heartbroken. He feels sort of like he's just been socked in the stomach. “Where, uh, where do you go to school?”

“Columbia, Missouri,” she says. “It's, like, the middle of nowhere. But it's a really good school, and I've got a good chance of getting into their library science program in a few years.”

He nods, forces a smile onto his face. “That's cool.”

“Yeah.” She slides the books back to him. “Due back in two weeks, as always. You take care, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He picks up his books, trying to think of _something_ to say, but... there's nothing really to say, is there. She's moving halfway across the country. She's got her own life. And Nate's very decidedly not a part of it. “You uh, you too.”

She smiles and waves good-bye, then turns to the next visitor. Nate trudges back to Sully's truck and dumps his books in the passenger seat, then folds his arms over the steering wheel and leans his head against them. Stupid. God, he'd been so fucking _stupid_ , thinking anything would happen, that she'd be interested... maybe if he'd asked her out or, or something, done anything except just moon over her for three months, then maybe...

He drives home on auto-pilot, and it’s sheer dumb luck that keeps him from getting in an accident on the way. He grabs his books and stomps into the house, slams the back door behind him. “Jesus, kid,” Sully says, looking up from the papers spread across the table. “What’d the door do to you?” Nate just shakes his head and continues towards his room. The absolute _last_ thing he wants to do right now is explain the whole stupid thing to Sully.

Sully doesn’t seem to be taking the hint though. “You okay?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Nate snaps and slams his door behind him. He throws the books on his desk and flings himself facedown on his bed. Should’ve done something. Should’ve grown a pair and asked her out. Then he’d at least have tried, instead of spending three months just… just wasting his time. Maybe she’d have said yes. Maybe they could’ve had something. Not that it would’ve made a difference, in the end. There’s no way she’d have stuck around for a guy who’s never had a real ID and never finished high school and spends a lot of his time breaking the law. She’d still have left.

Nate rolls onto his side and hugs his pillow to his chest. He feels like crying, but he's eighteen, for God's sake, he's way too old for that shit. And it's not like it'd do him any good. Just make things worse, 'cause then he'd have to explain to Sully why he looks like hell. He doesn't really want to tell Sully about any of this. It's stupid, the whole thing, he was so fucking _stupid_. Sully probably wouldn't even understand. Nate's never seen him with the same woman for longer than two weeks. 'Always more fish in the sea,' he'd say, but that's not the point. He wanted something real with her, not just...

He scowls and mashes his face against his pillow. Stupid. He'd been so stupid.

He hides in his room, avoiding Sully and sulking, for the rest of the afternoon. Around seven Sully knocks on his door and tells him he's going on. Nate manages to sound mostly normal when he calls back “okay.” It takes a few seconds before he hears Sully walking away down the hall. Once his truck pulls away, Nate slinks out to the kitchen to stare morosely at the fridge before letting it fall shut. He's not really hungry. He wanders into the living room and rifles through Sully's movie collection, eventually settling on a random Western he's seen half a dozen times already. He doesn’t have the heart to read the books he got.

Nate pulls out his journal about half an hour in, starts doodling on a blank page, and it takes a little while to admit that the 'random' portraits and profiles he's drawing are pictures of Sonia. Eventually he gives in, flips to a clean page, and actually starts trying to sketch her properly. If he's going to pick at the wound, he may as well commit.

None of the sketches look right, but he keeps trying, stops long enough to throw on another movie. He’s not really watching, but the background noise is nice. He should be used to how quiet the house gets when Sully’s gone, but he’s not, not really. By the time the second movie’s over, Nate’s filled two pages with sketches. None of them look right, but it’s the best he can do. He doesn’t have her picture or anything.

It’s not all that late, but Nate shuts off the lights and trudges off to bed anyway. He’s sort of hungry now, but he doesn’t want to go through the effort of trying to make himself something. He curls up under the blankets, buries his face in his pillow, and refuses to let himself cry. Nate’s used to being alone, and he’s okay with it, sometimes, but he’s never handled loneliness well. Loneliness hurts and hollows him out and he _hates_ it. And right now there’s nothing he can do to make the feeling go away.

Sully’s home when he wakes up, and Nate feels sort of pathetic for how relieved he is by that. He must’ve gotten home in the early hours of the morning, because he brought home a huge box of donuts, half of which are Nate’s favorites. Nate suspects that Sully knows something’s wrong, but Sully doesn’t ask, just tells him coffee’s ready.

He settles in at the table with his extra-sweet coffee and a plate of donuts. “So, I know we just got back from Europe,” Sully begins, “but I've got a line on an old monastery up in northern Spain. Small place, fell off the books in the 1400s. Might be something interesting left there.”

Yeah. Sully definitely knows something's up. First donuts, then the offer of a trip to Europe to climb around ruins-- Nate's preference more than Sully's, Sully likes having a specific target, something shiny to look for with a price attached. But, hell. He's never been to Spain. “Sounds good,” Nate says and manages a smile. “When do we leave?”

“I'll call my travel agent today,” Sully says.

Nate nods and picks up another donut. He still feels like shit, like he's been punched in the chest, like he's a lovesick idiot, but... at least he's a little less lonely, now.


	2. Chapter 2

Nate let go of the handhold and landed on his feet, one hand on the wall to steady himself. He stayed where he was, just below the window, and scanned the alley. Sully said he'd meet him here, but he wasn't gonna go wandering around just yet. It'd be pretty hard to play innocent when he's standing at the end of an alley with a stolen statue tucked under one arm.

Footsteps at the front of the alley, and Nate instinctively shrank back into the shadows. “Nate?” Sully called. “You make it out?”

Nate let out a relieved breath. “Yeah,” he said, stepping into view. “Got it.”

Sully grinned. “Nice work, kid,” he said. “C'mon. Let's get outta here before somebody notices the empty case and raises the alarm.”

He held out his hands for the statue, and after a moment of hesitation, Nate handed it over. He was pretty sure Sully wouldn't just take it and ditch him. He hadn't made off with the ring, after all, and that was worth way more than this. “Oof,” Sully muttered. “Heavier than it looks.”

Nate shrugged. “It's not that bad, old man,” he said with the brattiest grin he could muster.

Sully shifted the statue to one arm and reached out to flick him in the forehead. Nate hopped back a step and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, scowling. “What'd I tell you about callin' me that?” Sully said, more amused than angry. “Let's go.”

They made it back to the car and halfway down the street before the sirens started. Sully didn't panic, though, just kept driving, taking a looping, roundabout route to the docks. Nate leaned against the passenger side door and watched the street behind them in the rearview mirror, waiting for the police to show up in pursuit.

The cops never materialized, and thirty minutes later, Sully parked the car near one of the piers. He looked sideways at Nate for a few seconds, almost appraising, then frowned. “Probably best if you in the car,” he said. “Not sure what the client'll think about me showing up with a kid in tow.”

A kid. That's still all he was. Nate scowled and slumped in his seat. “Fine.”

“I know, it sucks.” Sully opened the car door. “Keep an eye on things back here?”

Nate nodded. “Yeah.”

Sully climbed out of the car and retrieved the statue from the back, then set off towards the pier. There was a single speedboat tied up next to it, and as Sully approached, a trio of people climbed out. Nate watched through the windshield as Sully greeted everyone with a broad smile. One of the women kissed him on the cheek, then took the statue from him. She pulled a magnifying glass from her pocket and set the statue on a nearby crate to examine it. “It's legit, lady,” Nate grumbled.

Sully didn't seem worried, chatting with the others while the woman continued her survey of the statue. After a few minutes, she straightened up and turned to the others. The man clapped Sully on the shoulder and reached into his jacket, withdrawing a small, tightly folded paper bag. Sully immediately unfolded it and peered inside, then grinned and shook the man's hand. The other woman collected the statue, and the three of them headed back towards the boat. Sully slid back into the front seat a minute later.

“That was fast,” Nate commented.

“They're regulars,” Sully replied. “Checking the goods and the money's mostly habit at this point.” He set the bag on his lap and withdrew four thick stacks of twenty-dollar bills. Nate was pretty sure he'd never seen so much money all in one place at once before. “Not bad for one night's work.” He returned two of the stacks to the bag, then tossed the other two into Nate's lap. “There you go.”

Nate blinked. “What's this for?”

“It's your share,” Sully said, like it was obvious. “You did half the work, you get half the money.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

Sully paused in starting the car, and for a second, an expression almost like pity crossed his face. But it was gone as soon as it came, and he shrugged. “Well, some of it's gonna go for rent, helping pay the bills and groceries and stuff,” he said. He twisted around to look over his shoulder as he backed the car up. “Rest of it's up to you. Save it, buy stuff, whatever you want.”

Nate looked back at the pile of money in his lap, then gingerly picked up one of the stacks. He couldn't tell how many bills were in there, but he was willing to bet it was at least a thousand dollars. There wasn't a lot he needed, really-- he had clothes and food and a place to sleep. Even after he paid for all of that, he'd still have lots of cash left.

His thoughts drifted to the used bookstore a few blocks from Sully's place. He'd spent a couple days there, prowling the stacks, but always left empty-handed. Stealing food because he needed it to survive was one thing, but he wasn't gonna rob the nice old ladies who ran the shop. And now he could afford to buy as many books as he wanted. Nate caught himself grinning and shook his head, reining it in a bit. “Thanks,” he said, as casually as he could.

Sully glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and gave him a sideways smile. “Don't thank me, kid,” he said. “You did the work, you get paid. That's how it works. And if you do the work and someone _doesn't_ pay you, punch 'em in the teeth and take back whatever they're not paying you for.”

Nate chuckled. “Right.”

 


End file.
